Along Came A Stranger
by Calico1185
Summary: When Rory's life is inadvertently placed in danger, Tristan DuGrey is assigned to protect her from a psychotic killer with a vendetta against her father.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Ok, this is loosely, _loosely, _based on the "Shark" storyline involving the daughter. In that story, the one-sided romance never went anywhere and Julie ended up in jail for drunk driving, which isn't where this story is headed. I said it's loosely based on the story because Rory's at Yale and has her own apartment, and Chris is a prosecutor who lost a case involving a serial killer. The psycho is now loose and has a vendetta against Chris. The Lorelei/Rory relationship is exactly the same, but Lorelei's currently traveling around Europe opening a chain of inns. She never married Chris, who's now a rich prosecutor and living in Hartford (paying for Yale). What else? Oh! Rory never slept with Dean or met Logan. Sorry, I love him, but he and the Stooges don't fit into this story. I think that's all, but let me know if you have any questions. Ciao!

Never reveal your name. Never turn your back. Never surrender your heart.  
-_The Saint_

Rory smiled as she shut down her computer, gathering up the hard copy to deliver to Doyle in the morning. Moving around her apartment, she shut down all the lights and double-checked the locks before preparing for bed. Her first class wasn't until 10, but her dad wanted to meet for breakfast before going in for final arguments. It was a ritual they had started when Chris moved back to Hartford and they began to rebuild their strained relationship, but she doubted he'd have time for anything more than a bagel and cup of coffee. This case had really gotten to him and pushed him to the edge.

Michael Durant was a psychotic serial killer whose meticulous method of murder declared a deranged genius that was rivaled only by his insistence in arguing his own defense. Chris had known the danger of allowing him to represent himself, knew his manipulative mind games would make it difficult to win, and found himself unraveling as he saw his worst fears become reality. Rory sighed. She knew her dad was terrified that a sadistic killer was about to be unleashed on society, and knew that he was blaming himself. Chris had fought tooth and nail, but had finally found his match in the form of Michael Durant. Tomorrow morning, they would face off in court, and there was nothing she could do to help her father. She'd offered to be there for closing arguments to offer whatever moral support she could, but Chris was determined to keep her away and argued that she couldn't afford to miss class, knowing that would convince her.

The Next Morning:

Checking her phone for messages before shutting it off, Rory slid down in bed and tried to clear her mind. She'd call her mom in the morning, then give her article a final glance before heading out to meet Chris. Other than that, there was nothing she could do.

Checking her watch for the umpteenth time, she considered giving up on her dad joining her for breakfast. He was never late and the waiting patrons were giving her pointed looks as waiters milled around the crowded bistro. Five more minutes. She'd give him five more minutes and one more phone call before giving up. She was just reaching for her cell phone when something thudded onto the table, startling her.

"Sorry I'm late, Kid. Last minute stuff to go over, phone calls to take and overall frazzledness got me up at 4:30 and I still managed to run behind."

Brows scrunched, Rory smiled as she surveyed the tension lines and worry etched across her father's face. Christopher Hayden's defining qualities were confidence and boyish charm, but both of those qualities were missing this morning.

"Don't worry about it, Dad. I was actually starting to enjoy the icy glares and sighs my bare, one-person table was eliciting from the many people waiting to be seated," she replied with a bright smile.

"Your mother's sarcasm has overdeveloped itself in you," he deadpanned.

"Sorry. It's just so cute to see you all frazzled and flustered. Kind of like your first day of school."

"I'm about to face the biggest case of my career and your mocking me?"

"It's what we Gilmores do," she shrugged. The coffee and pastry she had pre-ordered was placed on the table and Chris reached for it thankfully. "I'm just kidding, Dad. Your win rate is higher than any attorney in Connecticut and this guy's defending himself. You'll slaughter him in closing."

Chris accepted her assurances with a tight, forced smile, appreciating her support despite his doubts. "I hope so, honey."

Not knowing what else to say, Rory simply reached across the table to squeeze her father's hand. "I talked to Mom yesterday," she said after a pause.

"Yeah? She taking Europe by storm?"

"More like plowing through it," she laughed. "She said the business part of the trip's going well and the inns are coming along, but she's having trouble trying to fit in." She chuckled before taking another gulp of coffee. "Bouncing from country to country seems to be taking its toll and her travel dictionaries aren't helpful when she grabs the wrong one."

Chris smiled down into his cup, his mind a thousand miles away. Glancing at his watch, he sighed in resignation. Peering back into the eyes of his concerned daughter, he tried to smile as he reached for the check.

"I hate to eat and run, kid-"

"No, no, it's fine. I just wish there was something I could do. Are you sure you don't want me to come-?"

"No," Chris cut in forcefully. Seeing the look in her eyes, he softened his tone. "You don't need to skip classes, and I want you as far away from that courthouse as possible, ok?" he asked, standing and holding an arm out to her.

She stepped into his embrace, nodding against his chest. "Call me tonight?"

"You bet," he assured, helping her into her coat before stepping outside. "You take a cab here?"

"Nope, car's just around the corner."

"Alright-" his cell phone began ringing incessantly. "Hayden. Damnit. No, I'll be right there."

"Go, Dad. I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Sweetie."

"Bye." Trying to ignore the feeling in her stomach, Rory turned and continued to her car, hoping that her dad's uncharacteristic pessimism wasn't a sign of what was to come.

Later That Day:

The day flew by for Rory, preventing her from catching the news to check on the trial. She knew not to call her father, knew that he was going to be preoccupied and unable to take calls. She considered calling one of the members of his team, whom he affectionately called "his children," but the young attorneys would be likewise busy and probably running around doing her father's bidding.

Entering her apartment, she dropped her keys on the counter and pressed the button on her answering machine.

"Hey, Babe!" her mom's bright voice chirped over the machine. "I talked to Luke yesterday and he said it's been a whole six days since you were there. I know that fancy-shmancy school of yours is demanding and all, but honey, you're the only Gilmore Girl in the States and Stars Hollow is missing our beautifying charm. Ok, granted, my mom's there, but that's not exactly the charm I was talking about. ANYWAY, I was actually just calling because I've been in meetings all day and didn't know if you'd tried to call. Give me a buzz when you get home. Love ya, and stay beautiful!" Beep.

Smiling at her mother's antics, Rory smiled and reached for the phone. "Hey, Mom."

"Rory, my heart, the absentee Stars Hollow princess!" Lorelei replied gleefully.

"Says the woman who hasn't seen this side of the Atlantic in seven months," she pointed out.

"Humph! So glad I taught you to speak. How's everything with you?"

"Oh, you know, school, paper, Dad's stressing over this case."

"How's that going?"

"Uhh," Rory paused to tuck her hair behind her ears. "I'm not sure. They had closing arguments today, but when I met Dad for breakfast he seemed really….frazzled."

"Your dad?" Lorelei asked in surprise. "The 'overly-confident, I can't lose a case' dad?"

"How many other dads do I have?"

"Counting all the men who've adopted you in the Hollow? Countless."

"Mom, you're getting sidetracked."

"Sorry. He's stressed?"

"Yeah, and I haven't talked to him since then and don't know if I should call. I flipped the news on a second ago, but they aren't saying anything, just that both sides gave strong arguments."

"I'm sure he'll call you, hon, there's really nothing else you can do." Lorelei knew that her daughter was starting to build a relationship with Chris and wanted to do something to help, but Lorelei also knew that Chris would be burying himself in legal work trying to predict the outcome, while also replaying every second of the trial in his head.

"Yeah." Rory picked at the blanket draped on the couch. Brightening, she brought her attention back to her mom. "What about you? Are there any Italian hotties that you've fallen desperately in love with and plan to marry and start a big Italian family with?"

Lorelei laughed on the other end. "Well, my mom does want me to get married and become a respectable woman," her daughter snorted, "BUT I think I'm going to remain footloose and fancy free. I have a thing for diner men."

"Aha! THAT'S why Luke was calling! Not to complain that I haven't been home, but because YOU are still gone!"

"Hey, missy, don't turn this around on me! You pregnant best friend is missing you, too."

"I know. I'm actually planning to go home this weekend, give Sookie a break from taking care of Paul Anka."

"Yeah, she told me he opened her pantry door and pulled out the bag of pixie sticks," Lorelei added.

"Well, he misses you."

"And you. Just remember, when you first get him home, you're gonna have to carry him on the porch cause he has a thing about stairs," Lorelei reminded.

"I know."

"And he's picky about food and what food goes in what dishes."

"I know," Rory rolled her eyes.

"And he has to watch Fox News before he goes to bed. Something about Hannity's voice soothes him."

"Mom!"

"What" she asked innocently.

"I've got it. After taking care of my neurotic mother all these years, I think I can handle a neurotic fur-ball."

"NEVER call him that in his presence, he's _very_ sensitive about name calling."

"Mom?"

"Yes," Lorelei smiled into the phone.

"I love you."

"Love you too, kid. Now go settle in with you book and I'm going back to bed."

"Oh, crap! I forgot the time difference."

"No, worries, hon, I'm glad you called. Now go fetch you book."

"Night, Mom."

"Night."

Rory clicked off the phone and looked around her apartment. Bored and lonely, she reached for the remote and flipped through the channels. Giving up, she clicked the tv off and tossed the remote next to her. What the hell was taking her dad so long?


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes the men sworn to keep us safe...are the most dangerous of all.

-_24_

* * *

Rory groaned as the sun hit her eyes, rolling over and burying her head under the pillow. She'd stayed up until midnight before giving up and going to bed. The news was reporting that the jury was still in deliberations and was expected to remain that way for several days. 

It took her less than an hour to shower and throw her outfit together before dashing out the door. She had only half an hour to get there, and the ten minute drive meant that she would have ten minutes to get coffee before jogging all the way across campus to settle in for her first class with her customary five minutes to spare. Cursing, she maneuvered her car into a space and grabbed her bag. There was no way she was getting through this morning without coffee.

Of course her dad _had _to call while she was in class. Listening to the message again, Rory heard the agitation and worry in her dad's voice; "the jury was still deliberating, What the hell were they hung up on? The media couldn't decide which way the verdict would go, etc." And, most importantly, he sounded exhausted, as if he hadn't slept since closing arguments. It had been three days since then, and she'd talked to him only briefly.

Dialing quickly, she unlocked her car and threw her bag in the back. "Paris? Hey, I'm headed to the Hollow if you need anything. If you and Doyle are still fighting, feel free to come spend the weekend with me; if not, please keep the details to yourself."

"Does my sex life repulse you that much?" Paris asked dryly, almost sounding bored with the topic.

"When the descriptions are so vivid, yes," she admitted.

"Well, then you'll be happy to know I haven't gotten any," Rory winced at the choice of words, "and probably won't anytime soon, but this is my apartment, too, and I'm not letting him run me out of it."

"How very Jennifer Anniston of you."

"What?" Paris asked, completely baffled.

"Nothing. So you're gonna hunker down and see who's left standing?" She pulled onto the highway and switched the phone to her other ear.

"Please, that'll take forever. I figure a few days of lacy boy shorts and low cut shirts and he'll cave."

"Good luck with that."

"Thanks." A pause. "You're _really_ going home to see a dog?"

"Yes, Paris."

"Why?"

"Because he misses Mom –and me- and I miss everyone else. Besides, Lane's sick of being pregnant, I'm sick of worrying about Dad, and the Hollow provides plenty of distractions while keeping me thoroughly entertained. Win-win situation."

"I still think it's ridiculous to drive all that way to see a four-legged mutt who will just bark incessantly and drive you crazy."

"Paul Anka is more of a quiet communicator and a fabulous studying companion. Listen, I've gotta go, but let me know if you get sick of the subtle seduction and want to join me."

"How long are you staying?"

"I've got class early Monday morning, so I'm going to drive back Sunday night."

"Considering that it's already Friday, he'll break tomorrow night -Sunday morning at the latest- and then we get to the make-up sex and I have to study for my test on Monday, so I'm stuck here."

"Say no more, please. Talk to you later?"

"You bet."

"Bye, Paris."

"Bye."

Shaking her head at her slightly psychotic friend, Rory tossed her phone onto the seat next to her. In no time at all, she was pulling into Sookie's driveway and smiling at Davey as he rounded the house, stumbling slightly as he looked over his shoulder and giggled crazily.

"Whoa, whoa," she laughed as she caught the toddler. "What are you doing out here? And why are you naked?" she wrinkled her nose.

"Davey!" Sookie St. James called as she came panting behind her oldest child. Her face lit up when she saw the young woman holding her son's shoulders and effectively preventing his escape. "Rory, honey, I didn't know you were coming!"

"Hey, Sookie. I thought I'd spend the weekend here and give you a break from Paul Anka. How's he been?"

"Ohhh, you know. Sweet, quiet-" she was cut off by a dripping, soapy dog barking as he, too, came running around the house. Jackson followed closely behind, trying desperately to grab his leash.

In a tangle of limbs, leash, suds and a wagging tail, Rory gasped as she found herself on the ground with a large tongue scraping her neck. Jackson grabbed the leash and pulled the usually docile dog off her. "What happened?" she managed to ask as Sookie helped her to her feet without letting go of Davey.

"Davey decided to give Paul Anka some chocolate milk," Sookie rolled her eyes, "and spilled it all over himself, which made Paul Anka come over and try to lick him, which made Davey lose his balance and spill the remaining chocolate milk all over both of them. We brought them both out and _hosed_ them off, but then the dog's fur was all stiff and sticky, so we had to bathe him, and Davey tried to help, and the dog broke the leash," she trailed off, looking at Rory helplessly.

"I'm _so _sorry," she managed to laugh.

"Eh, it was Davey's fault."

Jackson tugged the leash and led the dog back to the hose.

"Come on, sweetie, we'll go on inside and let the men finish up while we check on Martha."

"We're leaving Davey out here?"

"Why not? He's already naked, soapy, and smells like a dog. What else can he do?"

Rory shrugged, accepting the wisdom behind that logic, and followed Sookie into the house as Martha began to wake up.

* * *

The weekend proved to be exactly what Rory needed, providing her with time to visit Lane -who was both confused and annoyed to find her husband agreeing her mother about expectant mothers and the cocoon they should live in- and catch up on her homework. By Sunday, she was rested, refreshed, and enjoying a perfectly greasy dinner at Luke's before heading back. 

"How's your mom?"

She smiled as his voice broke into her musings. Swallowing her mouthful, she smirked and reached for her coffee to wash it down. "She's good. Gallivanting around Europe and endangering more than a few ancient artifacts."

Luke winced in understanding. "Yeah, not the most graceful when excited, huh?"

"Not in the least," she shook her head. "Have you talked to her?"

"Oh, you know- every once in a while," he reached to rub the back of his neck, "an occasional postcard, or something."

"Huh."

"Yeah, you know, checking in, asking how everything's going, if you're eating, you know."

Rory smiled as he shifted uncomfortably. "Good." Taking pity on him and changing the subject, she added, "I just dropped Paul Anka back off at Sookie's….I'm feeling more than a little guilty about that."

"How's school?"

"Pretty good. I'm all caught up on papers and articles, no major projects stressing me out."

"Missing your mom?" he asked knowingly.

"More every day," she admitted readily. "But I'm distracted by worrying about Dad and school and we talk almost every day, so it's not too different from when she's here."

"If you're going back tonight you should probably leave soon; I don't want you driving after dark."

"Gosh, Dad," she mocked, "is the boogeyman hiding in a ditch along the highway?"

Luke smiled as he rolled his eyes, filling a to-go cup for her and setting it on the table. "Yep, he's dressed as a repair man waiting for someone to have car trouble, which is why Gypsy's been checking on your car while you ate."

Rory gasped as she turned in her seat to look out the window as Gypsy walked away. "You have officially crossed over to 'obsessively-overly-protective-father-figure' who has a wild imagination." It came out as more of an accusation than she intended.

"Just making sure you're safe. You and your mother aren't exactly known for being aware of automotive parts until they break and you're stranded on the side of the road. If you're going to be driving around after dark, at least have Gypsy look at it every few months."

Rory accepted the gentle chiding, knowing that it had been entirely too long since she'd even had the oil changed. "They don't just run by magic?"

"Nope."

"Good to know." She stood and leaned over to hug the man who had always been a father to her. "Thanks, Luke. Don't know what I'd do without you."

"Starve," he deadpanned.

"I'll see you later?"

"Yep." They smiled before she turned and left. Getting back into her car and leaving Stars Hollow, she noted that her car was running more smoothly and quietly. Huh, what do you know?

* * *

"You don't know that! Nobody KNOWS who wrote _Beowulf_, that's part of what makes it so great." 

"Overrated," Marty said simply.

She stopped dead in her tracks and gaped at him. "You didn't just say that." The campus was practically deserted and the streetlights cast shadows on the sidewalk.

"Come on, what makes it any different from every other story about a hero fighting monsters?"

Rory regained her ability to speak and barreled ahead. "Beowulf was a great hero who fought for loyalty and honor. We almost _lost _this great epic when the _one _copy of it was almost burned. Before _Beowulf_, this type of story was regarded with contempt and disdain by the academic community. It was only after Tolkien wrote an essay about it that it received fame and notoriety. This story inspired thousands of stories and authors by creating a new genre."

"Ok, no disrespect to Tolkien," Marty began, wary of upsetting his companion by offending her hero, "but Beowulf is overrated and given way too much credit. I mean, who talks like this?" He reached to take the book from her hand, ignoring her attempts to snatch it back from him.

"Marty! Give it back. You disrespect the book, you don't get to hold it," she yelled in mock anger, jumping up to reach for the book now held over her head. Her fingers had almost closed over it when Marty grabbed her wrist to move it away.

They both gasped and stumbled as a large body slammed into Marty, dislodging him from Rory and causing her to step back from him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" the newcomer demanded.

Rory looked at the tall, broad, breathtaking, frightening, _angry _looking man who now had Marty's arms behind his back. His blond hair was buzzed and Rory was startled by the intense blue eyes she encountered.

"Who are _you_?" Rory demanded.

"Are you ok?" he asked her solicitously.

"I will be when you let go of my friend and tell me why you assaulted him!"

The man glanced between them, his strong jaw ticking as he regarded the boy in his grasp. "Your friend?" he questioned.

"Yes, you know, companion, person who keeps you company?"

He released Marty, who still appeared shaken. The man stood a head taller than him and while Marty was lanky, this man was toned, solid, and looked like he had stepped out of an ad for the Army. "Sorry," he said simply.

"It's ok," Marty mumbled. He grabbed his books off the ground, ignoring Rory's attempts to help. "I have to go."

"Marty," she called out as he hurried off. Pushing her hair back out of her eyes, she turned her attention back to the man still standing in front of her. "What the hell was that for?"

"It looked like he was harassing you." Simple. No apology, no remorse or shame in his eyes, just a strange intensity.

She scoffed. "Who are you, anyway? The campus 'no fun allowed' police?"

"Tristan DuGrey." Again, direct and to the point. He wasn't giving her anything.

"Should that name mean something to me?" She was officially annoyed.

"Your dad hired me." He saw the look of confusion in her eyes. "I'm guessing he didn't tell you?"

"Great deduction, Sherlock, but if you work for my dad, shouldn't you be in an office or at the courthouse?"

"I'm not a lawyer –or a cop."

She was going to throttle him if he continued to give non-answer answers. "Let's try this again. Who the hell are you, and why are you following me around attacking people like a rabid dog?"

That got his attention. "Ok, first off, I attacked _one _guy, which constitutes 'person,' not 'people.' Secondly, your dad hired me to watch over you, and third, I said I was sorry about your friend, but it did look questionable from my point of view."

"Watch over me?" she asked, watching as he stuffed his hands in his low slung jeans and adopted a bored expression. "Watch me do what?"

"Watching over you isn't the same as watching you, and it's getting late, you should probably get home." Instead of waiting for her to argue, he simply took her elbow in a gentle grip and began steering her back toward her car.

Rory stopped dead in her tracks and began fishing around in her bag to find her phone. He stopped and sighed in frustration. "Rory." She continued to fish around in her purse, completely ignoring him. "Look, it's my job to protect you, which is why I'd rather you not stand out here at 11:30 at night."

By now Rory had reached her phone and dialed the desired number. "Damnit, why isn't he answering?" she muttered to herself, scrolling through her contacts to find someone who worked for her dad. She heard Tristan sigh in frustration before he stepped forward and took her by both arms, shaking her slightly.

His voice came low and gravelly. "Call you dad from the car –hell, call the police if you want- but I'm trying to help you and need you to get in the damn car."

Rory took a moment to study his face, his blue eyes flashing with annoyance and his jaw ticking as his grip on her arms tightened slightly. "You're hurting me," she said simply, cursing herself for both the stupidity of the comment and the fact that she had actually whispered.

The grip on her arms lessened slightly, but he still held onto her as he cocked an eyebrow at her. Nodding slightly, she let out a breath of air as he released one arm and again began steering her toward the parking lot. As she scanned the lot for her car, she felt her chest tighten as she realized that he was leading her away from it. "Where are we going?"

"I'm parked over here," he nodded toward the silver car on the other side of the lot.

"But I'm parked right there," she protested.

"And people can recognize your car, mine's anonymous."

Her mind was racing as she considered her options. She didn't recognize this man and was fairly certain her dad had never tried him, but she also knew her dad wanted her to be careful while they were waiting for the jury to come back. She wouldn't be surprised if he had hired someone to watch over her, but as a woman, she also knew the dangers of getting in a car with someone you don't know. She was still weighing her options as he opened the passenger door for her.

Cocking an eyebrow as she hesitated, he smiled slightly when she turned questioning blue eyes to him. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise," he said softly.

Wondering if she was crazy, Rory took another deep breath before getting into the car. She'd seen a lot of criminals, watched her dad study them, interrogate them, analyze their thoughts, motives and feelings, but though this man radiated danger, she didn't sense any malice coming from him. She didn't understand it, didn't know why she would feel safe with a stranger who exuded such power and intensity, but she didn't think she had much choice. Watching as he climbed into the car beside her, she said a silent prayer that this man really was sent by her father, a not some crazy lunatic out for revenge against him.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Tristan sighed as she sifted in her seat. Usually the people he was hired to protect were older men whose questionable dealings had placed their families in danger; not pretty young college students whose intelligence was outweighed only by their naiveté. Her fidgeting was starting to get on his nerves, as was her compulsive need to check her phone every 30 seconds, prompting him to break the silence in an effort to distract her.

"Ask."

She jerked nervously and turned startled blue eyes to him. "What?"

He exhaled impatiently. "You've got a million questions you want to ask, ask me. You're not gonna stop fidgeting until you do."

His hand reached down to shift gears and brushed against her leg. Moving her leg away, she felt a flare of annoyance as she watched the smirk cross his face. Letting her leg come back to rest where it had been, she turned to face him more.

"Ok. When did my dad hire you?"

"Nine days ago."

"Nine days-" she started, shocked, "you've been following me for _nine_ days?"

He nodded without taking his eyes from the road and reached to shift gears again. He deliberately let his hand graze her leg, feeling as she twitched, but refused to move.

"You came to Stars Hollow?" She stared at him as he continued to nod without taking his eyes from the road. "Where the hell were you? That town's gossip-line is buzzing if a new car drives through the square. How did you manage to follow me around all weekend without anyone noticing?"

That infuriating smirk was really starting to tick her off. "I can avoid being seen if I wish," he quoted.

"Did you disappear entirely?" she asked sarcastically, turning to look out the window as if disgusted by the conversation.

"That is a rare gift," he concluded.

Something about the way he said it caught her attention and a suspicion began to bloom. Turning back to study him, she asked, "Just how much about me _do _you know?"

"Enough," he said simply, scanning the parking lot as he pulled into it. She was starting to put the pieces together and he knew she was less than happy with the situation, which he was used to, but she didn't seem like she'd be too much of a problem. He felt her eyes on him as he checked the surrounding area for any suspicious looking persons, before he shoved open his car door. Walking briskly around the car and opening her door, he gave her a reassuring look when she stepped out.

He received an unladylike snort in return as she began to walk away from him, snatching her keys out of her purse and attempting to create a large distance between them. Tristan scoffed at the absurdity of her effort, easily matching her hurried pace with a few long strides.

She was still mumbling under her breath and cursing her father's lack of communication skills when she heard him approaching from behind. Shaking her head in annoyance as he came to a stop beside her, she waved a hand in a broad arc. "I'm here, you _watched _me safely arrive home, so you can go now."

"Not how this works. I'm here to look out for you, 24/7."

"Any just what do you plan to do while I'm in my apartment?"

He remained silent, but she could see that he was gritting his teeth in frustration.

"Just what _have _you been doing while I've been in my apartment?"

"Look, I'm not widely thrilled with the idea of spending all my time around a spoiled daddy's girl who's acting like a brat," he ignored the shocked, indignant look on her face and kept going, "but it's my job to protect you and I intend to do it. Now you can either behave like a good little girl and we can go inside and get you all tucked into bed," he said sarcastically, "or you can stand here like a petulant child and I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you inside. Either way, we're going inside."

"You wouldn't dare," she shot back.

"Watch me."

She gave him a long appraising look and decided that he probably would do exactly that. "You arrogant jerk," was her only utterance to him as she resumed her trek to her apartment, ignoring the man who followed every move she made.

For his part, Tristan was content to follow along silently, a smile tugging at his lips as she continued to mutter to herself until she opened her apartment door. She left the door standing wide and went straight to the phone.

"Dad?"

He watched as she made her way into another room and shut the door behind her. Closing his eyes and letting his head drop back, he sighed in exhaustion before opening them and taking a look around.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Dad?"

"Hey, Kid," Chris said tiredly, having a good idea why she was calling.

"How's everything going?" she started quietly, hearing the exhaustion in his voice.

"Not so good," he admitted. "The jury seemed to find just enough reasonable doubt to be unable to convict."

Rory felt her chest constrict at his words. They couldn't possibly have let him go? Maybe he was just making a prediction. "Daddy?"

"Michael Durant is a free man!" The bitterness he felt rang in his words. "The bastard had the nerve to congratulate me on a job well done and then thank me for everything I taught him."

Her eyes closed as her body sagged onto the bed behind her. She knew exactly what was going through her father's mind because it had been haunting him since this trial began. The guilt he felt at unleashing Durant on society was outweighed only by his overwhelming fear that Michael Durant would come after the one thing Chris loved most in this world: his daughter.

"Daddy-"

"I know," he said simply.

"Look, I don't want to tear into when you're dealing with all of this, but-" she broke off and looked at the closed door.

"The bodyguard?" he guessed.

"Yeah. Look, I know you're worried, and I can understand that, but having a bodyguard follow me around 24/7 seems a little excessive. And why so soon? He says he's been following me for nine days? Durant was still behind bars then."

"I know, Honey, and I know where you're coming from, but I wanted DuGrey to be prepared in case Durant got free. If I'd hired him today, he still would have been learning your habits and figuring you out. I just wanted him to be prepared. Besides, I don't know if Durant has someone on the outside, and I'd rather not take those chances."

"Ok, but how long do you plan on keeping him around? He can't follow me forever, you know?"

"I don't know yet, I'm still trying to figure things out. Just try to be patient and not fight him too much, ok? He's got a lot of experience and is good at what he does. He's not gonna let anything happen to you."

She sighed as she picked imaginary lint off her bedspread. She could understand where her dad was coming from, she could, she just hated having a shadow watching her every move.

"Alright," she said simply.

"Yeah?"

"Yep, I'll be good."

Chris expelled a breath of relief.

"I just have one question."

The catch. "Shoot, Kid."

"How much does he know about me? I mean, did you tell him things like my favorite movie, book, food –you know, personal things about me?"

"Not really. I told him you were studying Journalism at Yale –damn proud about that, by the way- where you live, that you drink insane amounts of coffee and inhale literature. Basic facts, but nothing too specific. Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing," she lied. "I'll let you get some sleep-"

"Alcohol," her dad corrected.

"And I'll go make nice with the bodyguard."

"Thanks, honey."

She rolled her eyes, knowing he couldn't see her. "Yeah, well, it's hard to fight you when you're being pitiful."

"Thanks for the ego boost."

"Shush, I'm being magnanimous, and I'll talk to you in the morning."

"Or whenever I sober up."

"Bye, Dad."

"Love ya, Kid."

"You, too." Tossing the phone on the bed next to her, she looked around the room as she considered her next move. She'd promised to play nice, and she _was_ nervous knowing Durant was loose, so she went over to her closet and reached up to pull down some extra pillows and blankets she kept there. She had a guest room that she could put him in, but she had boxes of books piled in there and didn't have the energy to clean it out for him.

Tristan looked up from the couch when she emerged. His eyes betrayed nothing as she dropped the pillows and blankets next to him.

"My guest room is a mess, but I'll clean it out tomorrow so you have an actual bed to sleep in. For tonight, this'll have to do."

"Thanks." He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "You talked to your dad?"

"Yep. Somehow, knowing that a psychotic killer is on the loose with a vendetta against my father isn't making me feel any better."

"There are a dozen cops watching your dad's house. He's perfectly safe."

"Yeah," she scoffed, "but what about Durant's next victim?" He remained silent, but she saw sympathy reflected in his eyes. "So, what's next?"

"I would suggest that you go to bed. I've already locked up and it's well after one. You're going to be dragging for you first class."

"What about you?"

"What about me?" he shrugged.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go to sleep."

"And tomorrow?"

"I'm going to take you to school," he said, almost as if speaking to a small child.

"And pace outside the door during class?" she quipped.

"That might seem conspicuous; I'll probably find a place within eyesight of the door and pretend to study."

The playful twinkle in his eyes had Rory faltering and scrambling for something witty to say. "Well, then I should loan you a book. Something deep and impressive."

He laughed at the expectant look she gave him, ignoring the fact that she had been checking him out less than a minute ago. "You do that." A moment of silence passed and he watched as she seemed to be having some sort of internal debate.

"Just how bad is this?" she finally asked, her voice almost a whisper.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving hers. "I don't know. Your dad seems to think it's bad enough that I should be here, and the police have set up protection for him." He was torn, not wanting to scare her, but knowing she needed to know something. "Durant's good," he finally said. "He's successfully covered his tracks and gotten away with everything he's ever done, but now he's being watched. There are a lot of people who know he's guilty and they're gonna be watching him like a hawk, and I'm here. He's not gonna get anywhere near you, Rory. I swore an oath to protect you and I will."

She nodded as if accepting his words, but they both knew they did nothing to comfort her. Nothing he could say could put Durant behind bars and restore order to her life. She started as Tristan stood up and moved toward her room. "What are you doing?"

"Checking the window," he called back. He swept the room for anything suspicious or any possible points of entry before finally reemerging to find Rory leaning back against the couch, her eyes heavy with fatigue. "All clear."

She opened her eyes to see him leaning against the doorframe, his tall frame dwarfing the tiny space. He quirked an eyebrow as she suddenly laughed. "This couch is way too small for you."

He chuckled. "It's fine. Believe me, I've slept in worse places."

"Oh yeah?"

He ignored the questioning tone and moved toward her. "You're exhausted. Get some sleep, I'll be right out here."

"Mmkay. Here's the remote if you're bored. My class starts at 9, so we should probably leave around 8:30. There are fresh towels in the guest bath whenever you want to shower. I apologize in advance for the pretty smelling shampoo, but it's here for my mom."

"Thanks."

Feeling slightly weird about having a stranger in her apartment, she bid him an awkward goodnight before making her way to bed. Her sheets felt exceptionally soft and her blanket exceptionally comfy, and her last fleeting thought before slumber was of the enigmatic man on her couch.

* * *

AN: First of all, thanks for the positive feedback. I've been on a hiatus from writing due to lack of time, so it was nice to come back to. I have more that I wanted to include in this chapter, but I wanted to go ahead and get it posted. As always, thanks for reading and I hope you liked it. Oh, and if none of you recognized the quote, that's a sad, sad thing and we'll all owe PJ an apology.  



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